What! The farfignugen! Is that? All a-bout? Surely I’m not the only one eating and drinking like I’m on death row or partying like it’s….12/21/12?

Tis the season to be a fat-ty, fa la la la la……

A talking scale? How timely! Say! Tomorrow, please post a deal offering me a spectacularly dull Swiss Army knife for 69% off so I can gouge my eyes out! And a 47% off cubic zirconia encrusted blowhorn so I can deafen myself to the “soothing neutrality” of your scale’s Frankenvoice!

I have to admit, I do enjoy myself a Groupon here and there. And I’m equal opportunity Living Social. How do you pass up a statement necklace?

OOOOHLALA! Image: Ily Couture

Or, um, red solo cup koozies? (Shut up.)

RED SOLO CUP? YOU'RE MY....FRIEND. Image: FunSlurp.com

Who knew I even wanted needed such things? And I have to admit. I have a secret wish to write copy for Groupon. These writers have skillz that are unmatched—for a word nerd like myself, their prose sings to me.

Usually.

But come on, Groupon. It’s holiday time. And if diamonds are a girl’s best friend, surely you know a scale is her most maligned frienemy. (Friends only when losing the LB’s—which, context clues would suggest, is NOT holiday time!) Must I spell everything out? For the love of muffin tops!

Justly horrified readers, let me tell you about the “fine print”….the deal is for your choice of two different scales. Groupon includes the features and benefits (???) of each scale. My words are in parenthesis and caps, just so you can crawl into my head for a sec:

Not only does the GNC (MUSCLEHEAD/NO BODY FAT/I LIFTTHINGSUPANDPUTTHEMDOWWWWN) AccuWeight Plus bathroom scale display your weight on a large (LARGE! YOU’RE ALREADY STARTING WITH ME AND MY FRAGILE EGO!) 1.3-inch screen, it also says it aloud (ALOUD = OUT LOUD = THAT IS JUST NOT CALLED FOR!) with a soothing sense of neutrality (THAT IS SOME GOOD CREATIVE WRITING RIGHT THERE. BONUS POINTS!) you won’t find in most wrestling coaches. (CHEAP SHOT, GROUPON. I LIKE IT! THOSE WRESTLERS CAN YO YO DIET BETTER THAN KATE MOSS!) The scale’s tempered safety glass exterior sustains up to 330 pounds (TEMPERED SAFETY GLASS?! THAT’S A RELIEF FOR THOSE OF US WHO PLAN TO REALLY GET OUR EGG NOG ON!), which is almost impressive as the AccuIndex scale, which holds up to 400 pounds. (GOOD TO KNOW.) The AccuIndex, though it doesn’t talk (WELL EFF THAT THEN! IF YOU WON’T SOOTHINGLY SHOUT OUT MY WEIGHT, I AM TAKING MY FAT ASS ELSEWHERE!), improves upon the AccuWeight Plus by disclosing your levels of body fat, water hydration, and bone and muscle mass in addition to your body weight. (YAY! MORE WAYS TO TELL US WHY OUR PANTS ARE TOO TIGHT!)

I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SHOUT LOUDER SO THE NEIGHBORS CAN HEAR! Image: Photobucket

P.S. I am not overweight. I have a water hydration problem. Finally! Mystery solved.

P.P.S. Groupon wants you to know, the first scale is available in black—that makes ALL the difference! Black is totally slimming! That will help as it’s shouting out my weight! Way better than some other unflattering color scale!

SEE? THE BLACK REALLY IS MORE FLATTERING, ISN'T IT? Image: Groupon.

You’re sold on this, aren’t you? I can tell. FYI though, you’re only allowed to buy three of these shitacular scales—one for you and two for a gift, per the ad. Oh the possibilities! Your mother in law? The blowhard in the office Secret Santa? The passive aggressive second cousin who always calls you Joe when your name is Moe? The neighbor who always brags about his second home on Lake Fancypants?

Forget the lovely poinsettia. Russell Stover candies? No way. Old Spice/Dope on a Rope. Hell no. Why go there when you can say it best with your shouty, large, unbreakable, black scale? “PUT THE PIE DOWN, UNLESS YOU WANT TO USE THAT GIFT CARD FROM AUNT MARTHA ON MORE SPANX!”

That is love in a box!

I dunno though. I kinda like to give gifts to people and then have them still speak to me, but thanks, Groupon! See, I’m thinking I’ll skip the fatabulous Groupon scale in favor of something else I think will be far more useful: the bullshit button!!

OH IT'S REAL AND IT'S SPECTACULAR! Image: Amazon.

The bullshit button is prettier, funnier, cheaper, and kicks the scary talking scale’s ass! It is fun for the whole family! Fun for a girl and a boy! Fun for a CEO! Fun for a homeless person! Fun for skinny people! Fun for chubby people! Fun for gay Republicans! Fun for straight artists! Fun for stereotypists! (Is that a word?) Fun for people who need a thesaurus! Fun for people who drive a Taurus! Fun for me! Fun for you! Fun for the kindergartner who licks glue! Even the old woman who lives in a shoe!

Your kids say they can’t eat their vegetables because they aren’t hungry? EHHH…..BULLSHIT.

Your boss says, “We can’t afford to give you a raise this year.” and then tears off in his new BMW? BAM! BULLSHIT!

Wifey says she has a ‘headache’. BULL-SHIT!

Hubs says you’re more beautiful than the day he met you. BULLSHIT–please refer to headache!

Friend says your new, do it yourself, highlights don’t make you look like Pepe Le Pew. BULLSHIT! (Sorry, but bullshit.)

Scale shouts out that you weigh 399 pounds after Christmas? BULLSHIT! You are 398 if you are a LB! Shove your BMI sass up your tempered glass ass, Groupon!

I was nominated for a blogging award on my friend’s blog, Nurse Mommy Laughs. (The funny thing is–I can’t find it now–it vanished. Really. But I’m still a winner. I swear. I knew it as early as 7th grade, when I guessed the weight of a ginormous pumpkin at a fair, and won a free Rolls Royce ride around town. I have skillz–don’t want to brag but that was NOT easy. And, I have to say, ginger ale in a plastic wine glass has never tasted better. I’m sure that driver was so cranked to pick up a tinsel toothed 7th grade girl in neon pants and Barracuda jacket and her mom. Two thumbs up on your raffle investment, Rolls company!)

Anyyyway, I have a proven track record of winning. Clearly. And I hope you check Stacey’s blog out. Stacey is a mom who spent many years as a pediatric RN. Especially when you have kids of your own, you realize it takes a very special person to have the strength to work with sick children. I thank God there are caring people like Stacey who can do it because those kids deserve the very best, and I would be bawling in the corner. Guessing that would not be helpful. I tip my Bud Light to Stacey and all the health care providers who work tirelessly on behalf of children everywhere.

Nurse Stacey’s award came with rules. I don’t like rules per se, but since I’m A. a nerd herd rule follower and B. Stacey is good peeps who knows how to wield needles, I’m going to do exactly what she says. So no one gets hurt. She said I’m to share 7 things with you all that you don’t know about me. Let’s try to get through this without horrifying anyone. Ready? GO!

1. I’m a LEO. (That probably splains a lot.)

2. I loooove to throw parties. And I’m a total “more the merrier–grab a red Solo cup and come on by” type person….how-e-ver, this has been hampered somewhat in recent years by children sucking me dry and their activities, but I hope to get my Martha Stewart Animal House on more now that the kids are getting older.

3. I am 74 years old.

74? Yes, I am. I think I need a spa day!!!!

*Please note my fashion and cooking prowess. I know. You’re wondering how I juggle it all. Many do.

4. I once got carjacked around the corner from Fenway Park in broad daylight. (Please visit the Boston Tourism Board to book your next, fun getaway! “The spirit of Massachusetts is the spirit of America!”) (Bet you didn’t see that one coming!) The funny thing is, it happened before car jacking was even in vogue. (I’m a trendsetter.) And, I was only 12. Nothing like being held at gunpoint to make a bucked tooth, Barracuda jacket wearing girl scream! I screamed so loud that I think the glass on the car windows shattered, the dude told me I could go, and I jumped out as he was pulling away. I have skillz again! I can wield off gun toting bandits with just my voice! (Shut up.) No need to carry pepper spray or a weapon. Armed and dangerous, right here. Step off, bad people! I will send you running. RAR!!!

5. I know. It’s hard to top 4. Ask my mom. Let’s see….I was born in Boston and lived in the same house from the time I was born until I left for college. I went to college in Ohio–completely random choice based on a brochure (really)–and loved it. I went home with one of my bf’s one weekend to Cleveland and asked her, “Why can’t I see the other side of the lake?” True story. She was like, “Um….because it’s in Canada, dummy!” Growing up outside Boston, we always went to the ocean and any lakes I saw were small–I had seen great lakes on map but didn’t understand the magnitude until I really saw one. Who knew they looked just like the ocean! (I’m worldy, I know.) I was also informed by my midwest friends that my plan to “run through cornfields because it looked fun” would cut me and hurt like hell. Who knew!!! So I just stuck to Coppertoning at the lake.

6. I once gave my scarf to a fun girl in a bar in Blarney, Ireland in the spirit of fostering international relations. Meaning….we bonded over Irish cider, she liked it, it was from Tarjay and I knew I could get a new one when I went home! Plus, I felt I owed something to the good people of Ireland for letting me kiss their cold, wet, germy, grey stone.

7. Once in college I went white water rafting with some high school friends in East Bumbleebee Ass Crack, Maine. We faux camped/shivered (Seriously. Northern Maine I think has like one day of summer. All the other days are fifty degrees or below.), cooked out, and drank beer to keep warm. All fun until the next morning, when I had to put on a tomato red wetsuit fatsuit (And seriously. Tomato red. Who looks good in that color? I want names.) Really regretted not taking the chilled out canoe trip–might have cursed my friend who planned it lured me with grilled meats and beer. We actually got in a raft where a 95 pound raft guide assured my girlfriends and I that if any of us fell out, she would pluck us to safety. Ok, crackhead, smoke some more dope in the woods, crunchola bar. Guess who dumped out first, went skkying down the river, sans paddle, with just my wits about me for a few miles? ME. Big Red. Let’s just say that now I know how my towels feel during the spin cycle and that a hung over muffin top is no match for the wilds of Maine! Eventually, after I said my mental good byes in my head to my family and the cast of The Outsiders (“Stay gold, Ponyboy! I’ll see you on the other side!”), forgave the carjacker, and pondered briefly who would be bequeathed my bitching mix tape collection, I rounded the corner, the choir of angels Van Morrison sang to me, and a raft full of hot guys on a bachelor party plucked my tomato ass to safety. As I choked and sputtered like a wrinkled, red, sexy beast. GAH! “Hey guys, look what I caught!” They were actually very nice guys. But now you know why me being outdoorsy is playing wiffle ball while I sip my beer!

That is all, muffintoppers. For verifcation purposes, my church going, 79 year old mother is on stand by to swear this list is almost 100% factual. (Fine. I’m actually 75.)